


Getting Screwed Over By A Tiny Man Named David

by storywriter8



Series: Wizards and Werewolves and Wind Oh My! [7]
Category: Leverage
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Magic, Blood, Blood Kink, Episode Related, Episode Tag, Episode: s01e12 The First David Job, Is That A Blood Kink?, Its Before The Sex So Its Ok, Licking of Blood, M/M, Missing Scene, Shifter Eliot, Shifter Quinn, They Are Werewolves So It's Ok, Werewolf Quinn, just in case, werewolf eliot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 14:29:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16536362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storywriter8/pseuds/storywriter8
Summary: Eliot was running again. Sophie had screwed over the team for a stupid statue and Eliot was running again. He never would have guessed who he would run into on the way.





	Getting Screwed Over By A Tiny Man Named David

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own anything Leverage.
> 
> Muhahahaha! I'm getting less terrible at writing sex scenes!

Hot puffed of breath escaped Eliot’s blood smeared lips as he panted against his broken ribs. The man, Mr. Quinn, that Sterling had hired, had done a pretty fair job. fortunately, he hadn't expected Eliot to be another shifter and the shock had given him enough time to take the blond down.

But now?

He was running again. 

He had trusted Sophie and she had fucked them all over for a god damn statue. He had seen Parker and Hardison off before slinking away to his nearest safe house to patch up the ribs Sterling’s hitter had broken. 

Finally reaching the battered apartment, in the crappy part of town that took six months of rent in cash without question, Eliot trudged up the stairs. He paused at the top and eyed the slightly open door. 

There was no way in hell Sterling had the brains to find this place but if it was round three he wanted, Eliot was more than happy to beat his face in. 

Letting his foot falls echo down the hall, Eliot burst into his safe house. At first glance, the hall and living room appeared to be empty but the tang of fresh blood wafting through the air told another story. Eliot closed and locked the door, shrugging out of his jacket and flexing his batter hands as he walked around the corner to the kitchen. A figure sat at the kitchen table, Eliot's stash of medical supplies scattered across it. The figure slowly raised a hand. 

“An apology.” Murmured the slightly accented voice.

“I ain't mad at you, Quinn.” Eliot grumbled, walking around the other hitter's chair to grab the open bottle of vodka and take a long swig.

Quinn's whiskey colored eyes flickered from the far wall to Eliot's face. “Devereux?”

Eliot let the bottle slam back down onto the table. “You don't con your crew!” He growled. “You don't trade their lives, you don't sell them out for fucking statue, you don’t-” 

“Betray your pack” Quinn murmured, his smooth voice sliding down Eliot's spine brushing down his prickling nerves. There was a darkness in his tone, however, and the younger hitter was glaring at the far way again.

Eliot reach out, sliding his fingers up Quinn's wrist to cup at the hand he still held in the air. The fresh blood that was smeared across the hitter's busted knuckles held a different scent to the blood still darkening his teeth. Eliot’s tongue darted out, barely grazing Quinn's knuckles before he was pulled back, startled. “Sterling?”

The anger in Quinn's face darkened to hatred. “He didn't tell me what you were, but that ain't an excuse. I should have known, should have checked, should have never taken this damn job!”

Eliot squeeze the hand he still held. “It's just business.”

“No!” Quinn snapped. “Shifter suffer enough shit from the rest of the world. They shouldn't be gettin’ it from each other!” A shiver ran across Quinn's face as he shifted, eyes turning to yellow slits and fangs peaking between his scowling lips. His clawed hand wrapped around the vodka bottle.

Eliot said nothing, waiting for Quinn to look him in the eye. 

When golden brown returned and met piercing blue, Quinn continued. “I ain't got many rules in this life, but fightin’ kin, I won't do. Sterling tricked me into breakin’ that rule, and I will do whatever it takes to make it right. Punchin’ that smug bastard in the face as hard as I could, just a bonus.”

Eliot held the other man's gaze as he slowly bowed his head. With long slow licks, Eliot cleaned every last drop of Sterling's blood from Quinn's hand, taking the time to worry at the spits and tears in the skin as well. “Apology accepted.” Eliot growled as he finished.

Slowly straightening, the older hitter flinch and placed a hand to his side. “And I hate to be a bad host but I gotta disappear in the mornin’ and these ribs ain’t gonna to set themselves.”

Quinn slipped out of his chair and on to his knees in front of Eliot. Carefully sliding his fingers up under the hem of Eliot's Henley, Quinn traced around the damage he'd done. “Let me” He purred, gazing up through his lashes at the older man. 

Eliot swallowed, hard, slowly nodded and allowed himself to be gently pushed down into a chair.

Still on his knees Quinn slid forward, forcing Eliot's legs apart, and set about undressing and bandaging his fellow shifter while letting his fingers ghost across the bare skin as much as possible. As the last strip of tape was smoothed down, Quinn sat back on his heels and slid his hands down the inside of Eliot's thighs.

“Not sure I'm up for that.” Eliot grunted, hips jolting slighting at the touch.

Quinn grinned “From this angle, I'd say you're definitely UP, for it.” He purred, earning a glare for his terrible innuendo. “But, since I'm the one apologizin’, it's only fair I do all the work.”

Eliot considered this then reached down to dig his finger into Quinn curls. He stood, pushing his chair back and pulling Quinn up with him. Taking the younger hitter's hand, Eliot lead him into the bedroom and allowed himself to be eased down onto the sheets. The ache of his ribs was quickly being replaced with a different kind of ache entirely as Quinn pulled away what little clothing remained between. 

The younger hitter let his fingers ghost along Eliot's sides as he gave teasing licks to the underside of his new lover’s cock. 

With a snarl Eliot half shifted, digging his claws into Quinn’s hair and pulling the blonde to his lips with a gentle touch. “Tease.” He murmured, pulling Quinn close to press their lips together.

Quinn smiled into the kiss, nipping and tugging at Eliot’s fang with his tongue. Pulling away slowly, he moved to straddle Eliot’s hips while not putting any pressure on the damaged hitter’s body. Moving his hips to let Eliot's dick side along the back of his ass, Quinn used his tongue to slick two of his fingers before reaching down to side one into his hole. 

The soft moan the younger shifter made while fucking himself on his own fingers should have been illegal but it wasn't until he shifted and gently bit at his plump little lips with those fangs, that Eliot knew he was in trouble. Unable to move his hips without his ribs protesting, all the older man could do was watch Quinn slowly open himself up in preparation for taking Eliot’s cock. 

“You’re killin’ me.” He choked after a particularly aggressive grind as Quinn slips in a third digit.

“Almost there baby.” Quinn painted, trying to move as fast as he could, eager to have that thick cock inside him already.

At four fingers Quinn’s patience snapped. Jerking his hand free he quickly moved up, back and finally down, inch by glorious inch. 

“Move.” Eliot commanded as he felt Quinn bottom out, desperate to feel more of his tight heat.

With a shaky breath Quinn obeyed, pushing himself up and down, up and down, stretched and filled to the brim. 

Eliot could feel himself falling, a garbled warning all he could give.

Thinking quickly, Quinn pinned Eliot to the bed before stretching out and baring his neck to the older shifter. 

Eliot's mouth waters at Quinn’s show of vulnerability and submission and with a gasp, he came. Breathing hard against the flesh of Quinn’s neck, Eliot reached down with four sharp strokes tipped the younger shifter over the edge as well.

Barely able to find the energy to pull himself off of Eliot, Quinn let himself fall out of his shift and onto the bed beside him before drifting off surrounded by both of their scents twisted together.

-

Quinn awoke with a start at the sound of the front door closing. 

The only trace of Eliot left was the lingering scent of the both of them still hanging in the air and on the blankets. 

The young hitter took his time getting out of bed, trying to capture the last of the joy Eliot had given him. His suit had been carefully folded and placed on the end of the bed. 

The thought his would be enemy had given to him made Quinn giddy all over again before the bittersweet reality of the lives they lead settled back in. 

Shifters lives were short as the rest of the world used them however they saw fit. From sex workers forced into artificial heats for the enjoyment of a paying audience to soldiers told to shut up and fight till either their minds broke or there was nothing left of their bodies to break. He and Eliot would probably never see each other again, outside of the obituary section of a newspaper.

Quinn let out a sigh as he tugged his suit jack on and jammed his hands into it's pockets. His left hand rammed up against a folded piece of paper he hadn’t left there. Tugging the paper out, the werewolf carefully unfolded the paper.

In secret we met--  
In silence I grieve,  
That thy heart could forget,  
Thy spirit deceive.  
If I should meet thee  
After long years,  
How should I greet thee?--  
With silence and tears.

“Fuckin’ sap” Quinn murmured to himself, not even bothering to try and keep his stomach from flipping in delight. He could think of worst fates then following the great Eliot Spencer around like the love sick puppy Quinn found himself quickly turning into.

**Author's Note:**

> The Poem is When We Two Parted by Lord Byron. 
> 
> I'm not up on my love poems but I feel like Eliot would be a secret romantic that has a bunch of classics committed to memory.
> 
> Chatting with the Void on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/KnockoutRambles)  
> 


End file.
